The Norwegian
by Josman
Summary: AU. What if Gary hadn't pulled the trigger at the start of John Carpenter's film? How might events have gone differently.
1. Outpost 31

**Disclaimer: I have yet to assimilate anyone who owns The Thing, therefore I don't own it yet.**

_If you're Norwegian, The Thing is about a heroic alien hunter who gets tragically shot down by the people he was trying to protect. _- Cracked

* * *

**Chapter 1: Outpost 31**

Lars peered forlornly through his binoculars. Somehow the creature that was impersonating his dog had escaped his view in the mountains. The survival of millions of people depended on him finding a dog in 14,000,000 square kilometres. His head throbbed from recent events and colour spots kept appearing before his eyes but he fought to remain focused. Matias was unaware of the thing's existence and almost certainly wouldn't carry on the chase without him.

The Norwegian struggled to remember his search and rescue training. The best way to find someone was to think what you would do in their circumstances. He pondered this. The thing would need shelter and fresh victims or it would freeze again. Logically, it could head back to its ship but it was running in the wrong direction.

_"Matias."_ He said. _"What's the nearest base?"_

_"Well... that would be the American camp. Just north-west."_

_"Then fly there, quickly!"_

* * *

By some strange bit of luck, they found the dog again, barely a mile from the camp. At Lars's instruction, the pilot made several more strafing runs, but this was quickly given up as futile. Though he hit the creature a few times, it would always repair the damage before Matias could bring the vehicle round for him to drop the thermite charges. Instead, he ordered him to land at the camp, and cut it off at the pass.

Matias, unfamiliar with Outpost 31's layout, was forced to circle the camp twice before he found the helipad. He'd wanted to radio ahead, but he'd needed both hands to manoeuvre with and so was forced to land by eye with no guidance from the Americans. Next to him, his friend was looking increasingly frustrated that they weren't down already and so he forced himself to rush the landing, feeling the chopper bounce and skip as he did so. His instructor in Trondheim would have been thrown him out if he'd seen that.

Stepping from the cab, Lars snatched a thermite charge from the box and pulled the pin, however, as he drew his hand back to throw, the charge slipped through his damp fingers and landed in the snow by the helicopter.

_"Get away!"_ He shouted. Any soldier knows that trying to throw a grenade back is the fastest way to get yourself blown up. Sadly, Matias wasn't a soldier and knew no such thing. The pilot charged forward in a foolhardy attempt to save the helicopter. The charge promptly ignited, vaporising the man and taking the chopper with it.

Having woken to find his camp in ruins and everyone gone, Matias's death had little effect on Lars's mind, particularly when he had to warn the five or so confused-looking Americans about the shape-shifting alien that was running up and licking one of their faces.

_"Get away from that!" _He shouted. _"It's not a dog, it's some sort of... thing! It's impersonating a dog!"_ The Americans just looked at him blankly. _"It's not real!"_ He screamed. But still they showed a frustrating inability to understand Norwegian. _"Idiots!"_ He screamed, shouldering his rifle and resuming firing. Sadly, the dog-thing ducked at the last second and the bullet struck one of the men in the leg. The rest scrambled for cover.

Lars marched past them and went after the dog-thing as it made its way into the camp. He wasn't sure what he planned to do next, but giving up certainly wasn't the answer.

* * *

Smashing through the third and last pane of glass protecting the rec room, Garry took careful aim out the window, he hoped the intruder would come a bit closer so he could aim for a non-vital spot, from this range he couldn't be selective. Sadly, if the man brought his gun to bear again, he would be forced to just shoot and hope.

The commander abruptly lowered his gun as he spotted MacReady tailing the man. Garry had long been of the opinion that the pilot had a subconscious death wish. Fortunately, their visitor was so absorbed in whatever he was doing that he failed to notice, until Mac smacked him across the back of the head with his bottle of J and B. The Norwegian dropped like a stone.

Mac had spilled some of the drink in his attack "What a waste." He muttered, watching it seep into the snow.

* * *

The base's medical centre had never seen so much activity. In the corner, Norris was patching up Benning's leg. Copper, meanwhile, was tending to their visitor.

"Mac didn't actually hit him that hard." Said the doctor. "But I don't think it's the only time he's been knocked out recently." He pointed to a second lump hidden by the man's hair.

"Suppose that's what drove him crazy?" Said Bennings.

"Or he was crazy anyway and someone at the Norwegian camp tried to subdue him." Copper shrugged.

Garry was leafing through the pockets in the man's coat. Finding some tools, a dog whip, some bullets (but no gun) and, most helpfully, a small wallet with some ID. "Lars Jans Bolen, Norwegian." He read aloud. "By the looks of things, he was the dog's keeper."

"Seems he wasn't doing a very good job." Said Clark.

"Suppose it was a disease carrier of some kind?" Fuchs suggested.

"Already checked." Said Clark. "No rabies or anything I could find. It seems to be healthy."

Copper, meanwhile was filling a syringe with something.

"What's that for?" Said Garry.

"Getting knocked out's more dangerous than it looks in films." The doctor explained. "If he wakes up now it could kill him. I'll have to sedate him for a little while."

"I need to talk to him." Said Garry.

"You can talk to him in 5 hours or so. Don't know how much sense you'll get out of him. In the meantime, I'd like to check out his camp, see if anyone else is hurt."

"In this whether?" Said Childs.

"Winds are gonna let up a tad in the next few hours." Said Bennings. "Can't condone it much myself, but it is a short hop. an hour there and an hour back."

"Just keep Lars somewhere comfortable while I'm gone." Said Copper.

"Right." Said Garry. "Someone help me move him to a spare room. Childs, move all the sharp objects out and put a bolt on the door. I don't want him wandering round camp when we're not paying attention."

* * *

As the camp sat idle, waiting for Macready and Copper to return, Clark was wandering down to fetch something from his room. Walking past the room they'd dumped Lars in, he found the Norwegian dog pawing at the door. He smiled. It was both sweet and sad that the dog would still want to get back to its owner, even if he had spent the day trying to shoot it.

"Come on boy." Clark said, gently taking the creature by its collar. "I don't think you want to be going in there right now." The dog seemed to resist for a moment, before yielding to his guide and following him away.

* * *

With Macready and Copper's expedition to the Norwegian camp having found more questions than answers, Garry had every reason to feel frustrated. He was further annoyed when he stepped into the radio room and found Windows snoozing in his chair. He twisted some dials, sending a high pitched squeal through his headphones.

"Did you reach anybody yet?" He growled.

"Reach anybody? We're a thousand miles from no-where man. And it's gonna get a hell of a lot worse before it gets any better!" Windows groaned.

"Well, never mind. Have you been listening to those tapes?"

"Tapes?"

"_Teach Yourself Norwegian_." He'd had the tapes ordered in soon after the Norwegians had started constructing their camp. Since they were the only other people within easy travelling distance, it had seemed sensible for his radio operator to learn some of their language in case of emergencies.

"Er... yeah." Said Windows. Though he had listened to them, it had all seemed like red tape. Most Norwegians spoke English, and the few times he'd had to contact the Thule Station, he'd spoken to some British guy anyway.

"Well our visitor's waking up. I may need a translator."

Windows suddenly regretted not being more honest.

* * *

Lars was woken by the sensation of someone sponging his forehead. He opened his eyes to find a handful of strangers gathered by his bedside, the rest of the camp was gathered in the hallway, listening in.

The middle aged man asked him something in English. Lars simply shook his head. The man looked to a man in sunglasses stood behind him.

_"Good morning. I is Windows."_ Said the man. _"That is Garry. Boss. That is Copper. Doctor. That is Nauls. Baker. He owns food for yours."_

The cook offered Lars something in a bowl. It occurred to him how hungry he was, but he had trouble trusting the food. _"Open your mouth."_ He mumbled.

"What?" Said Nauls.

_"Open your mouth."_ He repeated. He pointed to his own, opening it wide.

"I... think he wants you to open your mouth." Said Windows.

Nauls complied and Lars peered in. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him and he began spooning stew into his mouth. Looking around, he supposed that wasn't the best way to make an impression.

The Americans were looking to Windows now. The radio man gulped and said _"We... would like... to have... why you... er..."_ He didn't know the Norwegian for "shot at" so he pretended to fire an invisible rifle. _"us."_

Lars thought for a long time. He remembered how everyone had responded when Kate had first told them about the creature. And she'd been able to speak their language. He tried to think of a way of explaining it that wouldn't sound crazy. _"We found an animal, under the ice..."_

_"Slow!"_ Said Windows, looking through his Norwegian phrasebook. _"Don't know "ice"?"_

Lars simply pointed to the snow outside the window. Most of them seemed to know what he'd meant.

_"There was some disease, alive in it..."_

_"Disease?"_ Windows interrupted again.

Lars groaned in frustration. Somehow, humanity was about to be doomed by one man who'd failed to study foreign languages properly. He took a deep breath, knowing that he had a lot of misunderstanding to make up for at this point and couldn't lose his temper. _"Sickness. Illness. Infection."_ He mimed coughing and spluttering to illustrate his point. _"It affects people's minds."_

_"Minds?"_

_"Brain."_ He tapped his skull. It occurred to him that, if these people thought he was crazy, all these mimes weren't going to help. _"The dog was carrying it."_

_"Don't know "dog"?"_

Lars's patience finally snapped and he tried to snatch the book off Windows, shouting furiously as he did so. At this point, Gary pulled out his Magnum again and Lars, sensibly, sat down.

Without anyone having to say anything, it became apparent that the interview was over. The crew filed out and locked the door behind them.

"Did you catch any of what he was saying at the end?" Said Gary.

"He was talking too fast." Said Windows. "He kept talking about a thing..."

"You need to be more specific."

"No. That's exactly what he said. He said the thing killed them. The thing's in the... hund." At this point, he finally found the right point in the dictionary. "Hey, that means dog!"

"I thought you'd agreed to try to learn their language!" Said Blair.

"Yey! I don't see any of you guys translating!" Windows snapped.

"So what we got?" Said Macready.

"Either his friends went mad and killed each other and that drove him mad, he went crazy and killed them, or... he's telling the truth and they got attacked by some brain parasite." Copper shrugged. "Either way, we'll probably never find out. We can only lock him up 'till we can move him out."

"In the meantime," said Macready, "Clark, you should probably quarantine the dog, just to be safe."

"Yeah, ok." Clark shrugged. "There's a crate I can put him in, just across from the main kennel."

"Then do that."

* * *

Lars, meanwhile was looking round the room, in search of some means of getting out. The Americans were clearly never going to believe him. If he was to stop this creature, he was going to have to do it himself.

* * *

**Author's notes: I doubt anyone at the base spoke Norwegian, but I need a translator for the purposes of the story and Windows does seem like the most likely.**


	2. Things From Other Worlds

**Chapter 2: Things From Other Worlds**

Clark had emptied out the largest crate in the kennel, and now placed the Norwegian dog in it. He supposed it was probably a bad idea to put it in the same pen as the pack straight away anyway. Putting them across the room from each other would give them time to get to know each other's scent before he introduced them properly.

That taken care of, he went to feed the rest of the dogs. As he did so, the newcomer squeezed itself as far back into the crate as it could, keen to keep out of sight of the dogs for the time being.

* * *

Lars, meanwhile, was scouring the room he'd been dumped in for some means of escape.

His first thought was the window, but that was quickly dismissed. It would take a lot of effort to break through three panes of glass, and it was too much to hope that none of the Americans would hear. They'd probably even tie him up for letting all the heat out of the base.

He looked over the door. Locked on the far side of course. But it opened inwards, giving him access to the hinges. Proper prison cells were rarely found in Antarctic bases for obvious reasons.

All he needed was an improvised screwdriver. Though he scoured the assorted junk which littered every room in the station, he couldn't find anything pointy and strong enough to tamper with the hinges. The Americans had been too thorough in that respect.

But he did have the spoon he'd been given to eat with. It wasn't strong enough to tamper with the door either, but it was sufficient to undo some of the loose bolts on the bed frame. He retrieved them, along with some of the washers. Then, using a bit of wood as a hammer, he knocked a washer into each hinge, lifting up the pin slightly.

From there, he just had to wait for the opportune moment. He didn't want to break out when there were still people in the corridors to catch him. He couldn't take on the whole base, especially if the thing had got to any of them... He tried not to think about that possibility.

After what seemed like hours with his ear pressed to the door, he heard silence in the corridors. At the same time, Macready was firing up the snow plough outside. That would provide covering noise. He pulled the pins out of the hinges and pulled the door round, twisting the lock out of the wall.

He squeezed through the gap and leaned the door against the frame behind him.

Having got out, his next problem was where to find a weapon. Ideally, he'd need a flamethrower, but he knew that not many bases kept them. Thermite and dynamite were a possibility, but they would probably be hard to find and he didn't have long. His best bet was simply a bucket of kerosene.

* * *

Though the thing had done its best to hide its scent, the dogs were becoming aware of this creature across the room from them and began to bark at it. The creature hissed back and began to morph where it stood, pouring it's body mass into several snake-like tentacles, which slithered through the gaps in the crate, across the gap and through the mesh in the dog's cage.

Chanuck, the lead dog, rushed forward and bit one of the tentacles, ripping out a chunk of flesh, before squealing in pain as the chunk began to claw at the inside of his mouth.

* * *

Lars found a bucket and a flare in one of the storerooms. Now all he needed was fuel. That meant wandering over to one of the barrels that were kept outside. He peered out the window, Macready seemed to have nearly finished clearing and compacting the snow on the walkways so he shouldn't have to wait long.

Sure enough, Mac parked up a few minutes later and went to one of the other entrances.

Lars pulled a spare coat from the rack and went over to the nearest fuel barrel to fill his bucket.

The only problem now was where to find the dog? The kennel seemed like the most likely place, but where was it?

A furious series of barks and yelps answered his question and Lars raced in that direction.

* * *

Clark had heard the barking long before the Norwegian and gone to investigate. By the time he got there, very little of the thing was left in the crate, instead, a series of tentacles spread across the floor, towards the dog cage. The dog handler instinctively grabbed a fire axe from the wall and hacked through the creature with it.

The creature now seemed to see him as a threat and some of the tentacles came after him. He whacked them several more times with the axe but they just kept coming as he backed away. Where he chopped through one, two would come after him. He was beginning to feel like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia. Finally, he just fled the room and slammed the door behind him.

"I don't know what's in there." He said as Mac and Gary came running. "But it's weird and pissed off, whatever it is."

At the same time, Lars was approaching from the other door. He thought for a moment about just torching the place, but decided to wait. Let the Americans see what they were up against for themselves.

Nonetheless, he needed to do something so he released the catch on the dog's cage to let them out. Unfortunately, the surviving dogs all charged out at once, toppling him over. The kerosene bucket spilled everywhere, while the unlit flare flew out of his hand and got lost in the darkness.

Palmer, Copper and Blair came in through the same door Lars had. Spotting the Norwegian loose, Palmer jumped to conclusions and raised the fire extinguisher to knock him out again, before Copper grabbed his arm to stop him, shouting "Palmer no!"

An unearthly scream ahead caught their attention and they saw that the clump of tentacles that had attacked Clark had formed into something with more solid mass. It was hard to say what it looked like since it didn't resemble any creature that's ever walked the Earth, more a rough fusion of half eaten animal cutlets. The four of them scurried away, with the thing in hot pursuit, until a shotgun blast stopped it in its tracks.

Macready and Gary burst in and unloaded all their ammunition into the creature, it didn't kill it but it slowed it down. As everyone who could snatched some kind of weapon, the thing beat a retreat, joining up with the main mass in the kennel.

Mac hurriedly slammed the door and shone his light in, revealing a kennel littered with tentacles wrapped around half-dissolved dogs. In the centre, a pile of tentacles seemed to be forming into a solid lump, with a dog's head, but arms, eyes and bones sticking out at odd angles. They each wished they still had some ammunition left for it.

As the group watched in horrified fascination, Childs raced into the room. Lars was pleased to see that the outpost did indeed have flamethrowers. He was less pleased when Childs promptly stood right where he'd spilled the kerosene earlier. He hurriedly grabbed the man's arm.

Childs wheeled the flamethrower round to point at the Norwegian, but noticed that he was pointing at the ground shouting "_Kerosene!_" Which, fortunately, is "Paraffin!" In Norwegian. He spotted the pool of fuel at his feet and leapt aside, just as the thing struck at him with what looked like a flower of flesh, missing the mechanic by inches.

The thing hauled itself forward, smashing the doorway as it did so. But it landed right in the kerosene pool, making the burst of flame Childs supplied all the more effective. The thing lit up in a second and collapsed to the ground in a few seconds more.

As Palmer and Blair sprayed the creature with CO2, several of the Americans turned their weapons on Lars. "I think you've got some explaining to do." Said Childs.

* * *

The team had crowded round the autopsy table as Blair dissected the remains of the thing. To one side of the room Lars was scribbling down a written statement for Windows to translate. They'd decided it would be too slow to do it verbally.

As he wrote, he listened to Blair's analysis. His words meant nothing to him but the man did seem to know what he was doing. At any rate, this collection of mutilated dog and alien parts, fused together by tendrils should be enough to let them know what was going on.

"So this thing turned itself into a dog, ran over here, and snuck around all day?" Said Gary.

"About right." Said Blair.

"So how do we know that it's impersonated a Norwegian at the same time?" Clark squinted at Lars.

"He tried to stop the dog." Said Fuchs. "And he stopped Childs burning himself."

"He tried to stop it with a gun." Said Blair. "We saw in the kennel that bullets are just a minor annoyance to it. Perhaps he's just trying to gain our trust?"

"I'm sure impersonating a person is more complicated." Said Copper, though he hoped it was true rather than knowing. Since they didn't know Lars, they had no reason to believe he wasn't an impersonation. None of them were sure what to do with him at this point.

"I've finished translating." Said Windows. He looked down at the literal translation he'd scribbled down. "_About a week ago, we found something in ice, which we believe is a space ship. I can take you to prove it if you want to. We picked out a frozen body from the site for analysis. But the thaw out and attack the base. It can imitate some living. But it can not replicate _there's a word here I couldn't find_ things. We spent some hours trying to find out who was a demon. I applied two of monsters that had gone by when someone knocked me out. When I came around, the base was in ruins and the other was dead. _Couple more words I don't know_ landed at the same time that I found your dog-things in the wreckage so I chased it out across the ice._"

"I think showing us would help." Macready nodded.

* * *

For the second time in as many days, Macready found himself trying to pilot the chopper through a fierce snowstorm. This time, the extra weight was increasing his problem. Next to him, Norris was reading the map. In the rear seats, Lars and Windows were accompanying them in case the Norwegian had anything more to say. From an empty shelf in the hold, Palmer was pointing a shotgun at the back of Lars's head, in case their suspicions about him proved correct. Most of them had a gun, and Mac had hidden a stick of dynamite up his sleeve as an extra precaution.

"How far now?" He asked.

Norris looked up from his nervous glances at the pilot's sleeve. "About half a mile, due east."

In the back seat, Lars spotted the crater below. That was odd. When he'd been here before, this had been an underground chasm, not an open crater. Coming closer, he could see that the ship was much more wrecked than before. Once again, he could feel the gears turning in his head. Someone must have been here since he'd last visited. Indeed, he now remembered finding two of the Snowcats missing when he'd woken up. But surely the thing would only need one? That meant someone must have pursued it. And that might just mean...

He looked at the map Norris was looking at, then at the ground below. He tapped Macready on the shoulder and said something in Norwegian.

Windows was getting better at the translations, the longer he was doing it. It took less than a minute for him to say "I think he wants you to land on the far side."

Macready shrugged and adjusted his flight accordingly. As they flew in closer, they spotted the edge of a ridge that had been obscured in the blank whiteness. Macready carefully brought the helicopter down between it and the edge of the crater.

The pilot stepped out and starred at the wrecked spaceship below. There was no mistaking it. No-one could have created anything this big as a hoax. Aliens were real. And they'd nearly been killed by one.

To their surprise, when Lars stepped out, he moved in the direction away from the spacecraft. They followed him and found his staring at a couple of abandoned vehicles, along with a small collection of other equipment below. Presumably left by the other Norwegians. It didn't seem too remarkable to them, but they could see that Lars was keen to investigate.

"He'll try to escape." Said Palmer.

"Escape to where?" Said Macready. "There's nothing to see for a thousand miles. He'll freeze again before he gets anywhere. Windows, go with him. Norris, with me."

As the pilot went to investigate the spaceship, Lars abseiled down to the two abandoned snowcats. Above him, Windows was clearly struggling with the abseiling (despite Macready's careful instruction) and cursing all the way. " JÃŠvla idiot." Lars muttered, wishing just about anyone else could have been assigned to translate for him.

Naturally, he reached the bottom long before the American and went to investigate on his own. The first vehicle was burnt out, with a husk of ash in the driver's seat. Since there seemed to be nothing alive in there, he proceeded to the second. What he found there amazed him.

Windows reached the bottom, just as Lars was removing something from the snowcat. He supposed that must be why he'd come down here: To retrieve something. As he came closer, he realised that Lars was carrying a human figure. A human figure that seemed to be breathing.

Windows rushed back to the ropes. "Palmer, lower a stretcher! We've got a survivor!"

* * *

**Author's notes: I know it's taken me a while to update. Original stories generally require more thought than novelisations.**

**Exactly how she can still be there after two and a bit days will be explained in the next chapter.**


	3. Survivors

**Chapter 3: Survivors**

Even in death, Sander hadn't finished finding ways to make Kate's life hard.

Upon leaving Carter-thing to burn to death in the one snowcat, she'd moved over to the one Sander-thing had arrived in, only to discover that it had punctured the fuel tank upon arriving, presumably in case anyone wanted to use the fuel against it.

For two days, she'd been huddled up in the cab, desperately clinging to life. What fuel was left in her flamethrower, she'd used to melt a little water to stave off dehydration, but it wasn't quite enough. Malnourishment and exhaustion had taken their toll and her mind had left reality to recount the nightmares she'd seen over and over.

Though they'd put her in one of the warmer rooms in the station, it was several hours before Copper could encourage her into a lucid state.

The first thing she did, upon seeing this strange man standing by the bed was whimper and crawl for the far side. The sudden pain from her frostbitten extremities ensured that she'd stay awake.

Copper could guess what was frightening her. "Look, if you're worried about that thing, don't worry. We got it. Burnt it to a crisp when it broke into the kennel. We rescued you from that snowcat earlier today. You're in an American research camp, not far from where you were."

"Open your mouth." Was all Kate replied with.

Lars having insisted on peering into people's mouths whenever he could, Copper wasn't too surprised. He opened wide and Kate squinted at his teeth.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "If anyone doesn't have fillings keep an eye on them. It can't replicate inorganic matter."

Kate had to pause for breath at the length of the last sentence. "You're week from malnourishment." Copper explained. "And the frostbite's thawing out. You'll have to stay in bed for a couple of days. I'll get Nauls to make some stew. Don't worry, he had fillings. Lars already approved."

She shook her head. "No. I have to talk to everyone. They don't know what they're dealing with." She paused for a moment. "Wait, Lars?"

"Yeah, he came charging into camp yesterday morning. He was trying to shoot some dog your creature took over." He winced. If they'd known what the dog could do, they'd probably have helped.

Kate tried to haul herself into a seated position. Intense pain shot up her defrosting arm and she collapsed back. Clearly, she was in no state to fight this creature. "Talk to Lars." She said. "He's the only other one who's dealt with it before."

"Ok." Copper said. "But there's nothing left to deal with. We got that thing. It's finished."

"You can't know that." She said, sinking back into the bed. "You can never know that."

"Try to get some rest." Said Copper. "I'll go and make sure Nauls's teeth are still unhealthy." The girl suddenly looked alarmed again. "And we'll make sure no-one without fillings comes in here."

* * *

In the rec room, the Americans were looking over the fragments of spaceship Norris had brought back. "It's not any metal I know." He said. "Could be some of the newer alloys. Could be nothing like we have on Earth."

"I simply don't believe any of this voodoo bullshit." Said Childs.

"Happens all the time Childs." Said Palmer. "They're falling out of the skies like flies. Government knows all about it, right Mac?"

"So let me get this straight." Said Gary. "100,000 years ago, this thing crashes. The Norwegians get ahold of it. They dig it up..."

"Yes Gary, they dig it up. They cart it back. It wakes up, probably not in the best of moods. What do you want from me? Ask Lars. Or ask Kate when she's conscious."

They looked at Lars, who was sat in one of the armchairs. Sadly, the questions were coming faster than Windows could translate.

"How does it wake up after thousands of years?" Said Childs.

"And how does it look like a dog?" Said Bennings.

"I don't know. 'cos it's different from us. 'cos it's from outer space. What do I know. Ask them!" Growled Macready.

"Are you buying any of this Blair?" Childs asked the base's biologist.

Blair didn't answer his question, he just stared at the photo in his hand. The one that showed seven or so people gathered round the ice block. "This is the only shot they have of her. She wasn't on any of the tapes." He looked at Lars. "How long was she at your camp for?"

"_Three days._" Said Lars, once Windows had translated for him. "_Edvard called in some biologists to help examine it._"

"But why would they call in Americans?" Said Childs. "If we found an alien body, we wouldn't call in Norwegians."

"We have got hold of an alien body." Said Palmer. "The government probably sent her to wreck the Norwegians' work. Keep everything covered up. She just let this thing loose by mistake."

"I think we've heard enough of your theories." Gary groaned. Their base had several non-Norwegians there anyway. There's no reason they couldn't have called her in if she could do the job."

"But how do we know she is who she says she is?" Said Blair. "She shouldn't have survived that long in the cold."

Before they could delve any deeper, Nauls interrupted them. "Which of you's disrespecting a man by tossing his dirty drawers in the kitchen trash can? From now on, I want my kitchen clean, alright, germ free!" He dumped a pair of shredded long johns onto the pinball machine.

Lars peered at them for a moment before realising what they reminded him of. When the thing had taken over Karl, it had shredded his clothes to ribbons. Now it must have taken over somebody here. He stood up and shouted to the people assembled there.

"He says this thing... I can't find a word there, "rips", I guess. Your clothes when it takes you over. That must mean It's still... something."

"If it had taken one of us over, someone would have noticed." Said Bennings. "Even if it can change shape, how could it have our memories?"

"That's what I need to find out." Said Blair.

"Are you serious?" Bennings laughed.

"We can't just ignore this thing." Said Blair, as he made his way out.

"She burnt up one of those things in the other vehicle." Said Norris. "I'm sure she's fine."

"Lars does have a point." Said Fuchs. "He knows what we're dealing with better than any of us. What if it is impersonalising one of us?"

"What are you suggesting?" Said Macready. "We burn the place to the ground to root this thing out? Let's sleep on it. Sort this out in the morning."

Lars looked around at the group. His warning had certainly increased the worried looks on the Americans' faces, but this was a concept they were struggling to get their heads around. None of them had seen a doppelganger walking round camp, acting normally, right up to the moment she'd split open and transformed into some demonic monster.

The Norwegian made an excuse and headed for the nearest storeroom. Sometime later, he had two bottles, filled with fuel, hidden in the inside pockets of his jacket. He then made his way to the only other person in the base who was prepared for what was coming.

Stepping into Kate's room, she looked initially pleased to see him. But then a look of worry crossed her face. Lars opened his mouth to show that his fillings were still there and she visibly relaxed.

Lars pulled out a bottle of fuel and a flare and handed them to her. She nodded in silent understanding, before hiding them under her bed sheets. This thing would attack again. If the crew of Outpost 31 weren't prepared, they'd need to be.

* * *

Blair had never thought he'd need to use this program again. It was a system used by virus research centres to project the potential threat of an epidemic. He'd spent the last few hours programming in the way the creature's cells seemed to operate, as well as all the other necessary variables. Now it was ready to calculate.

He heard yet another person knocking on the door, but ignored them. Instead reading off the screen as is said, _Probability that one or more personnel may be infected by intruder organism: 75%._

He sighed. Given several factors he hadn't been able to program, he'd add at least another 15% on top.

"Blair?" Fuchs called through the door. "I've been reading your notebooks... Look, I think we may be in danger. If you've found anything out about this thing, we really need to know!"

Blair keyed in some more information. Another message flashed up. _Projection: If the organism ever reaches a populated area: Whole world population infected 27,000 hours after first contact._

That was all he needed to know. He reached into the draw and pulled out a gun.

* * *

The moment he saw Lars approaching, Fuchs took a step back. That was good. Paranoia is to be encouraged when something really is out to get you. If he could just educe some paranoia from the others, it might just save some lives. It was why he'd spent so much time looking for the biologist, in the hope that he might have identified the danger.

"Blair?" Lars asked, pointing to the door.

Fuchs nodded, then mimed locking the door and rattled the handle to illustrate his point. He pointed to a point on his watch three hours earlier than where they were.

"_Get him out._" Said Lars, miming reaching over and yanking something away.

Fuchs nodded and went to find Macready.

Lars tried hammering on the door itself. Knowing that Blair would only understand him if the thing had got to him, he shouted, "_If you're one of them, hiding won't save you. You'll burn in Hell, like the others._"

He spotted his translator walking through an adjoining corridor and went to him. "_I need you to talk to Blair. Let him know that he has to show us what he's found soon."_

Windows rolled his eyes. Between radioing for help, moving alien carcases to a storeroom and translating for a Norwegian who never ran out of things to say, it would be a miracle if he ever got a chance to sleep. "_No. Working now. I_..." mimed turning a lock. "_the things in... store room."_

Lars went wide eyed. "_You mean you haven't incinerated them!_" He didn't really understand the details, but he knew Kate had been really insistent that not one cell could survive.

"Er, _no._"

"_Where are they?_" Said Lars.

Windows led him to the store room where he and Bennings had stashed the things a few minutes ago. But when they got there, they found the meteorologist being held by a mass of tentacles, extending from the split-face thing.

"Holy shit." Said Windows, who promptly dropped the keys and ran.

Lars, meanwhile, let loose on the siren. If this didn't show them how much danger they were in, nothing would. He closed the door and waited for the Americans to gather.

Macready, Windows and Fuchs were the first to arrive. But upon stepping into the room, they found the chair Bennings had occupied bare and a window smashed. Mac quickly put two and two together and they ran outside, where Bennings was staggering through the snow.

Windows ran to help him, but Macready tackled him to the ground, as everybody in the base, minus Blair and Kate, gathered around.

Bennings looked up at them, apparently fine, but then raised his hands, which were now composed of deformed, mutilated stumps. He opened his mouth as if to talk, but all that came out was a hideous screaming sound, like nothing on Earth can make.

As the Americans stared at this Bennings creature in horror, Lars calmly walked up, assembling his Molotov cocktail in his hands. He flung the bottle, smashing it over Bennings-thing and lighting the creature up. Macready poured a kerosene barrel over it to fuel the flames.

* * *

The moment she'd heard the siren, Kate had got up and staggered over to the window. She stood and watched as the others torched the creature that had once been Bennings, dug a pit for it and all the other carcases and torched the lot. It was hard to believe that less than a week ago, she'd been analysing skeletons in a museum. And her life hadn't revolved around a constant battle with a shape-shifting monster.

She was becoming light headed from the effort of standing, but that was the least of her problems right now. She had to get out and help the others.

She had very nearly finished pulling on the clean clothes that Copper had left for her, borrowed from Fuchs, who was the most similar sized, when she heard a knock at the door.

"Who are you?" She said.

"Blair." Said the man walking in.

"Listen, could you tell the others to gather together? I need to tell them everything that happened."

Blair didn't respond, he just pulled out a gun. "Come with me."


End file.
